Elaine's Barber Shop
By Jumbuck
From the café across the road I watched her putting the money from the last customer in to the cash register. My turn now. I swallowed. As is usual when I'm about to go through with this, I felt a little uncomfortable and nervous. Childhood reverberations and all that…fear of losing control…of being helpless…perhaps left looking 'butchered'. But I got up and walked across to her anyway; I was at the point of no return, a sense of inevitability wrapped closely round my thoughts, feelings, emotions…
She was leaning over the counter and flicking through a newspaper when I walked in. Lifting her head, she smiled and waved a hand at the barber's chair. "Hello, do have a seat".
She was a little older than me, perhaps in her late 40's and I found her appearance instantly appealing. A blonde, she wore a high-collared black turtleneck sweater with matching tailored trousers, her strong angular features highlighted by a mid-length bob framing her face. I moved to the chair…
She removed a length of tissue paper from the roll on the counter and came over and stood behind me.
As we viewed each other in the mirror for the first time, she asked "And what's it to be today?"
"Arr…I usually have it cut short on the sides but leave it a little longer on top" I said as she placed the tissue paper around the collar of my sweater.
Her fingers touched the sides of my head lightly. "A Number Two or Three up the sides then?"
"Even…" I hesitated, swallowing again, "…umm, shorter."
She fixed a black cape firmly round my neck. My mouth started to dry out and I swallowed twice.
"All right. I'll run a Number One two inches above the ears…" motioning with her hands where the clippers would run to, "…then take your fringe and top right back with the scissors then blend the two layers together with clippers".
She walked over to the shelf below the mirror, her gaze still on me. Very short today…I took a deep breath. She picked up a set of clippers and removed a black comb from the face of the blade.
Moving behind me she placed her left hand on my crown. " Head down" she said as she gently pushed my head forward. Her hand stayed there, ensuring I couldn't tilt my head backwards.
A sense of vulnerability rose up, borne out of feelings I no longer had any say in what was about to happen here in her chair.
The clippers came to life. And as always happens when I first hear that excited whirring next to my ears, a mass of tingling goose-bumps rose across my skin. I felt slightly embarrassed, wondering if they were noticeable across my nape.
The clippers touched my scalp; my skin felt ready to explode.
"When's the last time you had it cut?" she asked as the clippers ran up my neck.
"Five, six weeks ago".
"Thought so. You obviously like having your hair cut short". She tilted my head to the left and ran the clippers above my right ear.
I felt a tad awkward talking like this - it was too close to the truth! But then what the heck, I was just another customer and we were making the usual light conversation…
"Yes, always have" I said as the clippers passed above my ear once more.
"Yes, short hair definitely suits you. I've not seen you in my salon before"
"My usual hairdresser's on holidays".
"So you couldn't wait for them to get back- you must really like it short! Guess the pressure's on me to perform then" she chuckled. "Well, welcome to Elaine's Barber Shop! I do hope you enjoy my clippering skills" she said with a laugh.
She then pushed my head forward even lower and pressed the clippers to my scalp more intensely.
Of course I couldn't see her face in the mirror. Still, I could hear the playful expression in her voice. I grinned and commented "I certainly do like the feel of clippers across my scalp".
" I thought as much. And I aim to give my customers just what they need".
"Gawd, there's definitely a need here" I thought to myself as tiny tufts of hair fell across my lap….